


Missing Hours

by SM (abcdefuk_off)



Series: Zarry Cancer [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Boyfriends, Cancer, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Harry, Sick Zayn, Worried Liam, and Liam is a business man, it's pretty cute, not going to lie, the boys are teachers, zarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-09-25 21:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20378557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abcdefuk_off/pseuds/SM
Summary: Zayn has cancer, Harry has hope, and Liam is at a loss; how is he supposed to fix this?





	1. Liam POV

“If he starts to feel sick, just call for the nurse, there are a couple assigned to that room so they should come pretty quick.” 

“Yeah, Harry, I know.” 

“And he probably won’t say if something feels off, but if you think something’s not right, get help immediately. He’ll probably whine about it, but better piss him off than have something happen.” 

“Okay, I got it.”

“And If you can, get him into a chair away from anyone else, he doesn’t like sitting near other people.” 

“I have met Zayn a time or two, you know?” Liam sighed, trying to swallow his annoyance with Harry’s babbling, knowing that the younger man was simply concerned. 

“Sorry, I know. It’s just, there’s a lot to look out for.” Harry explained with a sigh, running his hands through his hair, making a mess of it. 

“Stop stressing. Zayn will be fine. I’ve taken him to his treatments before.” Liam assured. 

“Yeah, but that was back before the summer, right after his diagnosis, it’s different now.” 

Liam frowned at the information.

Harry read the expression for what it was, a request for an elaboration, and glanced over towards the hallway, obviously checking to see if Zayn was within earshot yet. “It’s the same building and the same chair and the same drug, but the treatment – it’s more aggressive – it takes more out of him.” 

“But he’s still okay, yeah? He can still sit through it for a few hours and then come home?” 

“Yeah, mostly. But he used to be able to just sit and draw or read, or chat on the days he felt like it.”

Liam nodded, because that was exactly what he had remembered from the few times he had taken Zayn to get his chemo. He had brought his knees up into the chair and balanced his sketchbook on top of them, working away at his art and nodding along to the music he would play on his phone – while Liam spent a few hours answering emails and taking the occasional phone call; they would speak off and on but Zayn wasn’t often a big talker and Liam never minded that about him, always found it rather endearing to be honest. 

“Now he mostly just sleeps, sometime he gets sick, but usually that won’t happen until later.” 

“Okay. I can deal with that, Harry.” Liam placated, not going to pretend he wasn’t worried by the new information, but knowing he could handle it regardless. 

Harry opened his mouth, but clamped his jaw shut as Zayn approached. 

“Haz? What are you still doing here? You’re going to late for work.” 

Liam smiled at the soft way Zayn chastised Harry. The thin young man made his way to the front entrance, shuffling across the floor on sock-clad feet, wearing sweats and sporting nearly-tamed bedhead. Liam watched in amusement as Zayn reached up and smoothed back the hair that Harry had disrupted by raking his fingers through it just seconds ago. 

“I’m going, just wanted to make sure you two were all set.” Harry stated, reaching out to fix the hood of Zayn’s sweater that was inside out before pulling the material tighter around the slim frame.

Liam couldn’t help a smirk at the excuse or the way that the wild boy just melted around the quiet one. 

“No, you just wanted to lecture poor Liam.” Zayn said, giving Harry a knowing look that had Liam swallowing a chuckle. 

Harry had the decency to look at least moderately scolded, as he ducked his head; he might have missed the fond smile that Zayn gave him, but Liam did not. The dark-haired man reached out and pulled Harry’s coat off the hook, stretching up and draping it over the wide shoulders. Harry slid his arms into the jacket easy enough, he even reached down and grabbed his messenger bag, but he stalled after that. 

Liam couldn’t hep but feel sympathy for Harry as he saw the blatant concern all over his face. He was trying to think of something to say that would ease the worried man’s obvious fears, but Zayn beat him to it. He placed long fingers on either side of his boyfriend’s face, Liam shuffled back a step to be less intrusive, but couldn’t look away from the telling scene. 

“Babe, I’ll be fine. Liam will take me to treatment, everything will be fine – I’m sure he will text you non-stop as instructed, and then we’ll be back here after a few hours and I’ll see you right after school. Okay?” 

Harry nodded and leaned in, Liam did look away this time, responding to a text from Cheryl – giving the boys some level of privacy.

“You call me if you need anything.” 

Liam looked up at that, sure that Harry was talking to Zayn but knowing that he had been given similar orders. 

“I will. Now go.” Zayn stated, kissing Harry’s cheek this time as he gently pushed against the broad chest. 

“Bossy, Bossy.” Harry muttered, but obediently opened the door, glancing back over his shoulder at Zayn and then over in Liam’s direction. 

Liam nodded, silently backing up the promise he already made to take care of the ill boy. Harry nodded in return, although even Liam could still read the tension that was all over the young teacher.

Zayn closed the door after Harry had finally left, and sent Liam an exasperated look. “He worries too much, don’t let it get to you.” 

“It’s fine, I know how he is – well, with you anyways.” 

Zayn rolled his eyes at the comment as he slipped on his shoes, squatting down to tie them into place, but as he moved to stand, he lost his balance. Liam stepped forward, quickly wrapping a hand above Zayn’s elbow, gripping tight until he was steady on his feet. 

“Thanks.” Zayn mumbled, pulling his sleeves down over his hands. 

“No problem.” Liam responded casually, trying to forget how close his fingers had come to connecting around his friend’s upper arm. 

He kept a careful eye on Zayn as they made their way down to the car, the wobbly incident making him nervous that perhaps Harry wasn’t being as dramatic as Liam had originally thought. However, as they arrived at the vehicle without issue, Liam began to fill a bit more at ease. Everyone lost their balance on occasion; it was no big deal. 

The drive to the hospital was as peaceful as every trip with Zayn ever was. They spoke softly for a bit before settling into a comfortable silence, Zayn reaching forward to twitch the speaker volume up, singing along with the song that played. Liam smiled, because he knew his friend well enough to know that Zayn only ever sang in front of those whom he felt truly comfortable with. 

The check-in process at the hospital hadn’t changed any and they were sent to the same room as before – the room with all the large comfy chairs that were evenly spaced out and all positioned facing televisions. Each chair had an IV pole and several other medical devices surrounding it, a sight that may have unsettled others, but Liam had seen it enough times since Zayn’s diagnosis not to be bothered. He followed Zayn through the room, unsurprised in the least when he chose to sit in the chair that was next to the window and conveniently as far from the other patients as was possible. Zayn dropped down, looking rather small in that big chair, clenching the novel he’d brought in his fingers as he tugged the hood of his sweater up over his head. 

“Umm, there’s some chairs back against the wall.” He said, looking up at Liam as he pointed behind him with one of his sleeve-covered hands.

“I know, I’ll wait until the nurse has you all set up.” Liam said, knowing from past experience that he’d just end up being in the way if he pulled up a chair now. 

Zayn nodded, resting back in his seat, fiddling with the fraying hem of his sweater. He certainly didn’t look comfortable or relaxed in the least, but Zayn rarely did unless he was at home, or he was at Louis’, or Harry was around. 

Liam glanced over his shoulder, seeing no sign of the nurse, and moved toward one of the chairs resting up against the wall, he shrugged out of his coat and draped it over the back of the seat, pulling his cell from his pocket and checking his messages. 

He was not shocked in the least to see a text from Harry asking how everything was going and quickly replied telling the younger man that everything was fine – he just barely resisted the urge to tell him to _relax_. 

Liam looked up as he heard someone approaching, it was the nurse they’d been waiting for. He pocketed his phone, but stayed back and out of the way, sending a polite smile at the young lady who stopped next to them. She greeted Zayn with enough familiarity that Liam could tell she had tended to him several times before. She was sweet, but not too talkative as she took his vitals. She didn’t seem put off in the least by Zayn’s nearly silent demeanor, his avoidance of eye-contact or lack of verbal responses. He nodded in response to most her questions and didn’t use words unless it was absolutely necessary. That was just Zayn, it was jus the way he was around people he didn’t know well, but some people took his reserved nature the wrong way and pegged the young man as being rude or standoffish and would often treat him poorly because of those incorrect assumptions – Liam was glad that was not the case with the nurse. 

He tried not to display his concern when the nurse went to take blood and Zayn unzipped his sweater half way to give her access to a bandage taped over his chest. The nurse removed the dressing, commenting that there were no signs of infection and that there would be no need for a new bandage. Liam made sure to hide his alarm as he subtly shifted to get a look at what injury had just been uncovered. It was a large lump beneath Zayn’s skin, it looked unnatural protruding form the thin chest. 

That must be the port that Liam had been told about. Zayn had just recently had the surgery required to implant it. Liam had been shocked when he’d heard about it, but Harry had assured everyone that the procedure was minor and nothing to worry about. Liam forced his eyes away from the temporary addition to Zayn’s body, not wanting to make his friend uncomfortable, or – if he was honest – make himself any more unsettled than he had just become. 

The blood test was quick enough and soon the nurse was back hooking Zayn up to the chemo and the waiting game began. Once the nurse had left, Liam pulled his chair up closer and sat next to Zayn. He found something semi-interesting on the television, something that got Zayn to look up from his book for nearly three whole seconds. Liam spent the first hour glancing between the work emails he was replying to and the young man drifting in and out of sleep in front of him. The book was forgotten after about ten minutes, resting half open on the armrest as the slim boy had his legs pulled up onto the chair and was curled in on himself. No matter how he fought it, Liam’s gaze kept drifting to the unzipped bit of Zayn’s sweater, where the tube that was connected to the pole at Liam’s side disappeared. 

Zayn had something under his skin, something that had been surgically installed, to more efficiently take his blood and fill his body with medicine. It was fine. It made sense. And yet Liam couldn’t get rid of the uneasy feeling in his gut. 

“It doesn’t hurt.” 

Liam blinked, his gaze moving up to the tired face that was staring over at him. “What?” He asked. 

“The port. It can be … uncomfortable, but it doesn’t hurt.” Zayn explained. 

Liam considered claiming that he hadn’t even noticed, but the knowing look he was getting from the dark-haired boy told him not to bother. “That’s good.” He confirmed with a nod. 

Zayn twitched a ghost of a smile before yawning and curling up even smaller in that big chair, his hooded head falling against the back rest. 

Liam spent the next couple hours trying not to look at the lump on Zayn’s chest -- or the place where the he tried to keep it covered up with his sweater. He tried not to notice how much thinner the ill man was since last time Liam had brought him to treatment. He tried not to notice the other patients in the room and how unwell they all looked. He tried not to notice a lot of things, but he couldn’t help but notice how exhausted Zayn was.

His friend could barely keep his eyes open for more than a couple minutes, sometimes even appearing to fade away in the middle of one of the quiet conversations they had during their hours together. But even the sleep he acquired didn’t appear to be very restful. Zayn would be out for several minutes and then he would wake and shift – curling up smaller or angling himself a little differently – looking as though he was trying to acquire a more comfortable position, before eventually falling back to sleep for a brief while.

When he was awake, Zayn stared sightlessly at the television, or would occasionally speak to Liam, but whatever he was doing, he still looked entirely drained. Save for the small smile the graced the pale face when Liam told a story of his son Bear and his current obsession with dinosaurs, Zayn’s expression was one of permanent exhaustion. Liam didn’t remember him looking so worn-out when he picked him up that morning, but perhaps he hadn’t been looking close enough. 

Liam looked down as he felt his phone buzz in his hand, he’d placed it on silent the first time Zayn had fallen asleep, it was another message from Harry asking how everything was going. 

Liam replied that all was well, even though one look at the slim boy curled up in the chair sleeping restlessly had Liam feeling the complete opposite, but he wasn’t going to share that with Harry – because there wasn’t anything the younger man could do. Liam wasn’t going to stress his friend out while he was at work. Besides, Harry had tried to warn him that things had changed, that treatments were no longer as simple as they had once been, and it was Liam’s own fault for not listening.

He was relieved when it finally came to an end. The nurse came to unhook Zayn from the IV, and gave him something that was meant to help with the nausea, and another something that was supposed to help with the pain – Liam just nodded along pretending he was okay with everything going on, pretending that he wasn’t terrified at how faded his friend was. 

Finally, it was time to leave, and Liam watched as Zayn climbed slowly from the chair – moving as though each of his limbs weighed a thousand pounds, which was disturbingly far from the truth. He reached out to steady the weary man as he stumbled on the way from the room.

“M’okay.” Zayn mumbled, curling into his sweater, zipping it all the way back up and hiding beneath the hood. 

Liam nodded, but his hands continued to hover until they reached the car. 

He turned the heat up the moment they got inside, having noticed how Zayn was shivering. He had been tempted to offer his coat, because all Zayn had on was a sweater, but he didn’t think it would be well received - he hadn’t missed the glare he got from the young man when he opened the passenger door for him; the dark circles beneath those eyes not extracting an ounce of their fire. 

Liam felt his phone buzz in his pocket and knew immediately that it was Harry checking in. The protective boy likely staring at the clock and knowing that the treatment would be about over. He glanced to his right to check on Zayn, who was curled up small on the seat, looking like he was asleep, but Liam couldn’t much tell with that hood pulled over his face. 

They soon arrived at the apartment building and Liam parked around back and sat a moment waiting for Zayn to react, when that never happened he climbed out of the vehicle and moved around it, that way he could open Zayn’s passenger door for him while he was still sleeping and hopefully save himself a glare. He leaned down, gently placing his hand on the bony shoulder and shaking it slightly as he called his friend’s name. Zayn came-to slowly, groggily squinting up at Liam, before glancing around and then back up at the other boy as he slowly began to uncurl himself. 

“Li?” 

“Yeah. You ready to go inside?” 

Zayn’s face scrunched up, he appeared confused by the question and glanced around. 

“We just got back from hospital. You’re home now, we just need to get you upstairs, yeah?” 

Understanding dawned the weary face and Zayn nodded. Liam stepped back and tried not to look too nervous as he watched his friend shakily climb from the car. He never faltered on the way up to his flat, but he was far from steady on his feet, the entire journey slow and shaky. 

When they arrived at the boys’ flat, Zayn took out his keys, Liam watching for a moment as the trembling fingers tried to line the cut metal piece up with the lock. His insides twisted as he watched the exhausted man continue to struggle to complete the simple task. Eventually, Liam couldn’t just stand by a moment longer and reached his palm out for the key. 

Zayn huffed an aggravated sound before dropping the troublesome object into Liam’s hand and stepping to the side. 

Once they had entered the flat, Zayn shuffled immediately over to the couch and stiffly sat himself down on it, when he leaned over and began to undo his laces, Liam removed his coat and hung it up, moving to the kitchen with the intent of making tea and giving Zayn privacy – he knew the independent lad would not want an audience as he fought to untie his laces. 

He put the kettle on and pulled out his phone, responding to Harry’s text about how things were going, letting him know that they just arrived home and asking him what tea Zayn liked best. He didn’t imagine Harry would be able to answer right away, knowing he had a full day of classes to teach – but still wasn’t entirely surprised when he immediately received a response.

_Make ginger, it’s not his favourite but it’s best for after chemo._

Liam made two cups of ginger tea and ventured back over to the couch. Zayn accepted the mug with trembling fingers, Liam was nervous he would drop it but didn’t say so. 

“Are you cold?” He asked, glancing around trying to think of where the thermostat would be, the flat was already incredibly warm – it would seem the heat had been up pretty high anytime Liam had been over since Zayn’s diagnosis. 

“No, it’s fine. It’s not that it’s – my hands just…I just get this way sometimes.” Zayn summed up wearily. 

Liam nodded, taking in the vague response as he sat in the armchair near the couch, nearly rolling his eyes when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. 

“How many times has he texted you?” Zayn asked with a smirk. 

“Enough.” Liam chuckled, freeing his phone and ensuring Harry -- for what felt like the hundredth time -- that everything was fine. “He hounding you too?” He asked, because he hadn’t seen Zayn spend too much time on the phone that morning. 

“Nah, he knows I mostly just sleep through treatment – wouldn’t want to wake me.” 

Liam nodded, because that made sense. 

“He’ll be calling in a few though.” Zayn said, glancing at the clock on the wall.

It was nearly noon, which likely meant lunch break at school, which would free Harry up to make a phone call. 

And Harry didn’t disappoint, just minutes later Zayn’s phone played a snippet of a song that sounded a lot like _Moves like Jagger_. 

Zayn, who was laying down next to his phone, didn’t even pick the cell up, simply used a shaky finger to press the talk button. 

“Hey, Haz.” He greeted, not much louder than whisper.

“Hi, babe, how you doing?” Harry spoke, his voice impossibly soft. 

Liam put the television on mute and quietly excused himself from the room – giving the boys their privacy. He washed up the few dishes in the sink that must have been from breakfast, and gave the kitchen a solid clean that would make his wife very proud – and sure maybe he took a quick picture of his handy-work and sent it to Cheryl, he was always looking for ways to rack up some more brownie points. 

By the time Liam popped his head back into the main room, he saw Zayn asleep on the couch, his phone still next to him. Liam left the phone where it was after being sure that it wasn’t still on a call – and grabbed the blanket from off the back of the couch, draping it over the slim form. 

Liam sat back in the chair, pulling out his laptop and getting to work. He had been assured by both boys that he didn’t need to stay. He had only been asked to take Zayn to his appointment and home, he’d even been told that if he wasn’t able to he didn’t have to stay for the treatment and could simply drop Zayn off and pick him up again. That idea hadn’t even crossed Liam’s mind. He had taken his friend to a few chemo sessions before Harry had been finished teaching for the summer, and he knew that the treatments were long and boring and he didn’t want Zayn sitting there alone all that time. On those previous occasions Liam would usually just drop Zayn back off at his flat – he hadn’t even walked him to his door, there had been no need for it. But this time, as much as Liam thought it would be the same, it wasn’t, this time was different. Zayn hadn’t just been tired, he’d been depleted. He had spent the entire time at the hospital in a fitful sleep and he hadn’t been very aware during the time he had been awake. Zayn hadn’t even been able to unlock the door to his own flat, his hands had been shaking so hard, and once he was inside, it was all the weary body could do to make it to the couch before collapsing. 

No, Liam didn’t feel good about leaving his unwell friend alone. 

So he stayed. He did his work, while keeping a watchful eye on the boy stretched across the couch. 

It could have been nice and calm, even relaxing, if he wasn’t so terribly worried about the young man next to him. Zayn was resting, but not peacefully -- it was just like when he had been dozing in that big chair during treatment – he was shifting every few minutes, as though a comfortable position did not exist. He would shiver every once and awhile, even though Liam was practically sweating in the warmth of the apartment. 

Liam found himself being overwhelmed with emotion as he gazed at one of his closest friends. 

Zayn was huddled into the blanket as though he were trying to burrow away from the entire world. His face was frighteningly pale – more so than it had been that morning – and the bags beneath his eyes were nearly as black as the hair on top of his head. 

The young man moaned softly, his breath hitching, as his eyelids drifted open. 

“Li? You ‘kay?” He rasped. 

Liam immediately straightened up in the chair, just now realizing he had been leaning forward with his forearms on his knees studying his friend. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Liam assured, swiftly wiping at the moisture he just noticed had collected in his eyes. 

Zayn’s face scrunched up as he appeared to be studying Liam with that dark penetrating gaze of his. 

Liam twitched a smile that wasn’t entirely forced – because Zayn looked rather amusing with the wrinkles on his nose and his hair all over the place – and placed his hand on the bony shoulder, squeezing it gently. 

“I’m okay, Zayn. Get some rest, buddy.” 

Zayn was notoriously stubborn, but the exhaustion won out, because after a couple long blinks he had fallen back into a restless sleep.

Liam reached out and tugged the blanket up higher over the slim frame. He tried desperately to swallow his fear, but he didn’t have any luck. 

He had known Zayn was sick, had known that cancer was not a diagnosis to be taken lightly – he had _known_ all of that, but it hadn’t been real until that moment. 

Because nothing had changed really. Sure, Zayn was sick – sick enough to warrant frequent hospital visits and to have to take time off work, but he had still seemed fine (all things considered). He’d been tried, which was really nothing new for Zayn, and obviously hadn’t looked his healthiest; but throughout their friendship Liam had seen the boy sick a few times and this hadn’t seemed any different – until today. 

Until Liam was watching as his friend could barely keep his eyes open, watching as Zayn stumbled and struggled to find the strength to accomplish even the simplest of tasks, watching as the young stubborn man he’d known for years appeared to be fading away right before his eyes. 

It was terrifying. 

And Liam didn’t know what to do. 

He had been the keeper of the small group of boys since they all met in college. Louis was the oldest, but Liam had always been the responsible one – had always done what he could to help out Louis, Niall, Harry, and Zayn. He’d seen them all like his little brothers and had treated them as such. He’d organized their class schedules every year, helped them spruce up their resumes once school was through, had made sure they all got home safe after their nights out. He had always done his best to look out for all of them. He’d helped them fix whatever problems they had. 

But this time, Liam didn’t know what to do.

He didn’t have any answers. 

This was different, it was bigger.

It was _cancer_. 

How was he supposed to fix this?


	2. Harry POV

Harry tried his best not to rush home. 

Zayn was perfectly safe, after all. 

Liam had assured him of that – as had Zayn himself, but Harry’s boyfriend wasn’t always the most accurate with his self-assessments. Liam could be trusted, but the older boy could only report on what he knew about and with Zayn’s tendency to down-play things – well not many people who weren’t Harry or Louis could usually see through the façade.

The young teacher cracked open the door, slipping into the flat and closing it softly behind him, trying his best to keep quiet in case his boyfriend was asleep. He gently placed his messenger bag on the floor and draped his coat over a hook, slipping out of his shoes and treading lightly into the main room. He rounded the back of the couch and was not surprised to spot a slim frame curled up on the cushions. Harry tugged the blanket over a bit from where it had shifted off Zayn’s foot, his feet were always freezing. He was about to get closer and smooth down some of that unruly bedhead, but was distracted by a sound that came from the kitchen. He gave his boyfriend one last glance, raking his eyes over the sleeping form, being certain everything looked alright, before moving towards the kitchen. 

Liam was at the sink, the sound of running water could be heard – but that wasn’t the noise that had snagged Harry’s attention. No, what he had heard was something that sounded much more like a sniffle, he heard it again after a moment. 

“Liam?” The younger man asked, as he moved further into the kitchen. 

“Hey Harry.” Liam greeted, not sounding surprised by Harry’s entrance, as he turned off the water. He grabbed the hand towel off the counter and began drying one of the two mugs he had just washed, all while keeping his back to the other boy in the room. 

“Everything alright?” Harry asked. His worries had been put at ease when he’d laid eyes on his resting boyfriend, but Liam’s odd behaviour was resurrecting all the concerns Harry had been working so hard to stifle. 

“Yeah, Zayn’s fine. I mean, he’s exhausted, but I guess that’s the new normal, huh?” Liam croaked. 

Harry frowned, the words sounded simplistic enough, but the distress in his friend’s voice was unavoidable. If nothing in particular had happened, Harry was guessing that it was the treatment in general that had the older boy so upset – or more likely Zayn’s reaction to the treatment. 

“It’s different, isn’t it?” Harry spoke softly, leaning against the counter as he watched Liam pick up the second mug and dry it vigorously. 

Nearly a minute of silence passed before Liam placed the clean cup on the counter and replied. 

“You warned me. I should have listened.” He mumbled, finally turning towards the other man.

Harry was filled with sympathy at the look of absolute misery on his friend’s face. 

“I just- I’d taken him before and I thought you were being …”

“Dramatic?” 

“_Over-protective_.” Liam clarified. 

Harry twitched a grin. “Well, it’s not like that never happens.” He pointed out. 

A ghost of smile pulled at Liam’s lips, but his eyes were still red with grief. “I’ve never seen him like that.” He confessed, his voice cracking. 

“I know.” Harry whispered in response. 

“He could barely keep his eyes open, but even when he was asleep he looked uncomfortable, like he was – like he _is –_ always hurting.” Liam swiped at his eyes, turning away to hang the dishtowel back over the handle on the oven-door. 

Harry swallowed, his own emotions welling up and clogging his throat. “He’ll be alright, Li.” He croaked, wishing the words sounded less like a question and more like the assurance they were meant to be. 

Liam sniffled another time or two, busying himself with returning the two mugs to the cupboard, positioning them just perfectly before finally closing the door and tuning back to Harry, his face dry and chin lifted high. 

“Yeah. Yeah, he will be.” He stated with full certainty. 

Harry nodded in return, trying to project the same level of confidence. He watched as the shorter man glanced aimlessly around the small kitchen – as if searching for something that needed to be done. 

“Go home, Liam.” Harry instructed with a smirk, before his friend could conjure up some unnecessary task to complete. 

The boy across from him nodded distractedly. “Yeah. You sure you don’t need me to take him tomorrow?” 

“No, just Wednesday.” At the raised eyebrow he received, Harry felt the need to elaborate. “The school worked with me to rearrange my classes, I’m off by noon on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so I can take him when I get home.” 

“What about Friday?” 

“Louis is taking him Friday.” 

“I thought he and Niall had a meeting with those local brewery representatives that day.” 

Harry shook his head. “No, that’s next week.” 

Liam accepted the information with a nod and though he appeared to be out of questions, he seemed reluctant to move. 

“You better get going, I promised Cheryl that you’d be home by dinner.” Harry prompted, never one to shoo people away, but feeling as though Liam was in need of a little extra encouragement. 

“Yeah, I best get going.” He said, making his way from the room, walking quietly through the living room towards the front door. Harry snagged the nice coat that was draped over the chair, smiling down fondly at the beautiful dark-haired boy still sleeping on the couch. 

“You are so far gone, mate.” 

Harry looked up as he walked over to the other man and handed him his jacket. It only took once glance at the teasing smile on Liam’s lips for him to understand what it was his friend was referring to. 

“You just noticing that now?” He replied, because Harry had been so far gone for Zayn for _years_ now. 

“Nah, I noticed from the start. Just thought, you know, as time goes by sometimes things change.” Liam said, sliding into his jacket and snagging his briefcase. 

“A lot of things have changed – but not that, never that.” Harry responded honestly, his gaze drifting back towards the couch. When his attention returned to Liam he saw that his friend’s focus had also drifted to the sofa that was housing a sleeping Zayn – and while his eyes held an affection that was different from the love Harry’s green gaze had been glowing with, but was equally as strong; the warm brown orbs also emitted a heart-wrenching degree of concern. 

“He’ll be okay, Liam.” Harry promised, because he would make sure of it. “We’ll see you Wednesday.” 

That emotion-filled gaze was redirected at Harry, who gave his most reassuring grin, using it to portray all the cocky determination he could muster. The million-wattage smile did its magic, and Liam’s posture became a little less rigid – the serious boy even managing to twitch a grin of his own before he exited the flat. 

Harry closed the door with a sigh, letting the forced confidence fade from his expression as he took a moment to breathe, trying not to let the doubts and fears invade his mind. 

He did his best to stay positive and hopeful, especially around the people who he knew were worried and scared. Not all of that was an act, because Harry was by nature a very joyful individual, and he did have a great deal of hope about their current situation; but even he had concerns. Some days Harry couldn’t help but live with the terror that he would lose his whole world, that cancer would shatter his life by taking away the boy who held his heart. Some days Harry felt like he was drowning – overwhelmed by his fears and doubts, but no one knew about those days. No one except Zayn. 

He had always come to Zayn with everything, and he didn’t allow any damn disease to change that. 

His boyfriend never failed to settle the storm in his mind and revive the hope in his soul – whether he did it intentionally through soft speech, or unintentionally by simply being his exquisite self. 

Like now. 

Harry made his way over to the couch, moving around the sofa and squatting down next to it; and one glimpse at those gorgeous God-given cheekbones, that dark mess of hair, and the curled posture – one look at his sweet creature was all Harry needed to restore the hope that had been flickering inside of him. 

Harry reached out, gently sliding some hair off Zayn’s face, admiring his boyfriend’s beautiful features as he used the tips of two of his fingers to softly trace that perfect jawline. 

The familiar pair of dark eyes peaked open.

“Haz.” Zayn greeted with a sigh, smiling soft and sweet the way he always did whenever he spotted the younger man. 

Harry was filled with the warmth of love, just like he was every time Zayn sent such an adoring look his way – whether it was from across a crowded room, or up close and personal, like now. 

“Hi love.” He responded, his fingers combing through the dark hair again. Harry couldn’t stop the fond smile that pulled at his lips as Zayn hummed and nuzzled into the pillow, the boy’s cat-like antics too adorable to ignore. 

“Li?” Zayn questioned through a yawn.

“He just left.” Harry explained, shifting out of the squat and onto his knees, continuing to drag his fingers through the sleep-mussed hair as he leaned into the couch. 

“Can you tell’im m’sorry?” Zayn mumbled, his hand slipping out from beneath the blanket to grip onto the one Harry had resting against the sofa cushion, their fingers entwining. 

“Sorry? About what?” Harry asked, settling in close. 

“Think I scared him.” Zayn explained, yawning once more before continuing. “I tried to stay awake. I really did. I just—” The young man paused, swallowing as his eyes filled with moisture. “I’m just so tired.” He exhaled, the confession sounding far too near to a sob for Harry to be okay with.

“Hey, babe, it’s okay.” Harry assured, pressing a kiss to the back of Zayn’s hand. “It’s okay. Liam understands, he’s alright.” 

“Just, tell him I’m sorry. Kay?” Zayn requested softy after taking a minute to breathe slow and deep, blinking the tears away. 

Harry assessed his boyfriend a moment to see just how stubborn he would be on this matter – just stubborn enough it seemed. 

“It’s not necessary—"

“Harry—"

“But _okay_, I’ll tell him.” 

Zayn’s scowl faded and he shifted forward, pulling their linked hands towards him and placing a kiss on the back of Harry’s. The younger man twitched a smile, keeping his fingers tangled with the thinner ones as Zayn settled back into the couch. The sweet simple moment was sullied by the violent tremble that visibly disrupted the thin frame. It looked like nothing more than a hard shiver, but the soft cry that escaped Zayn’s mouth before he bit down hard on his bottom lip told Harry that it was agony that had just torn through his boyfriend’s cancer-ridden body. 

“Did you take any pain pills yet?” Harry asked, his heart aching at the way Zayn burrowed into the cushions, as though he was trying to hide away from the bone-deep anguish – desperate to escape something that was tormenting him from the inside. 

“Too early. Just got home.” Zayn explained through clipped words. 

Harry shook his head. “Nah, babe. You got back from hospital hours ago.” 

Zayn scowled at the information, confusion creasing his face. 

Harry used his thumb to softly smooth away the lines imbedded in Zayn’s brow. 

“What time s’it?” He questioned, clearly trying to piece his day back together. 

“Nearly five, sweetheart.” 

Zayn wilted at the new information, his expression turning almost mournful. Harry was filled with sympathy for his beautiful boy. He knew how much Zayn hated having his days disappear on him – how much it upset him that hours of his life would go missing, would vanish and leave him feeling lost, feeling as though he had no control over his own existence. 

“I don’t- I don’t remember anything, just the chemo.” Zayn whispered brokenly, those dark sad eyes staring up searchingly at the man kneeling next to the couch.

“I know.” Harry replied softly, wishing he had more to offer than simple understanding. 

Though, and thank God for small favours, understanding appeared to be enough as the distress dissipated and a sense of calm seemed to befall the fine features, Zayn’s fingers contracting around Harry’s in what he knew to be a silent sign of appreciation. 

“I’m going to go grab your pills and make you something to eat.” 

A grunt of displeasure was the response, and Harry smirked at the typical reaction – Zayn hadn’t had much interest in food even before chemo had started to mess with his appetite. 

“I know, babe, but you can’t take your meds on an empty stomach, you know that.” Harry stated, leaning forward to place a quick kiss on his boyfriend’s nose before climbing to his feet. 

The young man’s attempt to move away was halted by the long fingers that refused to release his hand. He stalled, frowning as his efforts to wiggle free were denied by the insistent hold. 

“Zayn?” Harry asked, stooping back down towards the couch. 

His eyes were closed, but he opened them, his mouth opening and closing as he appeared to be searching for the proper words. Harry crouched back down, getting closer so Zayn wouldn’t have to look up at him. 

“Everything okay, Ze?” He asked, his worry rising as he watched the other man continue to struggle with a response. 

Eventually, Zayn managed to find his words. “Wake me up when you get back, ya? I don’t – I don’t want the whole day to disappear.” He requested. 

Harry’s heart clenched. He knew that Zayn was losing not only hours, but days and weeks of his life, and he knew how powerless that was making the independent soul feel. He also knew that the sick body was in desperate – nearly constant need of rest, but he lacked the resolve to deny that pleading gaze a damn thing.

“Of course. I’ll be back in a second with your pills and then I’ll wake you up when dinner is ready; we’ll sit together and I’ll tell you all about my boring day. It’ll be a real party.” He added with a playful wink. 

He was rewarded with a twitch of those pale pink lips, his hand squeezed before it was released. “Sounds good.” Zayn remarked through a yawn. 

“Any food requests?” Harry asked, willing to cook just about anything as long as his boyfriend would eat it. 

Zayn shook his head, nuzzling into the pillow. “Just not eggs – I’m too tired to put out any fires.” He commented with a smirk. 

Harry rolled his eyes, pulling the blanket back up over Zayn’s shoulders as he stood, the motion unobstructed this time. “That was one time.” He whined. “I burn the eggs one time, and you just won’t let it go.” 

“You almost burnt down the entire flat.” 

“One time!” Harry huffed, marching from the room, secretly elated by the chuckle he could hear coming from the couch. 

Once he had given Zayn his meds and ‘forced’ him to drink the entire glass of water – which based on the glare he received, apparently made him some sort of monster – Harry returned to the kitchen to create a meal that the ill young man would actually eat. While the pancakes were cooking, Harry pulled out his phone and typed out a text for Liam, telling him that Zayn was sorry if he had worried him. 

He received a reply before he could bother pocketing the device, because this was Liam after all – that man was _born_ responsible and he was certainly the promptest and most reliable member of their friend group. 

_Zayn only worries me when he glares at me. I’m fine. He doesn’t have anything to be sorry for._

Harry nodded in agreement, making a note to show Zayn the exact text later so he could be sure he hadn’t done anything wrong – knowing that the reason Harry was the one texting Liam and not Zayn was both because Harry could stay awake for the entire conversation, as well as the because Zayn thought Liam would respond more honestly to the one who wasn’t ill. 

_Is he alright?_

Harry frowned, well he wasn’t going to show Zayn that text, the silly boy hated having people worried about him. 

_He’s fine, just tired. It’ll be better next week when he gets a break from the chemo._

_Good. See you two Wednesday. Let me know if you need anything before then._

Harry smiled at the predictable offer. 

_Sure thing, thanks Li._

He made to put his cell away, but paused for a second and instead scrolled through his contacts, stopping on the name Cheryl and typing out a quick text. 

_He okay?_

Liam being the self-proclaimed ‘dad’ of the group meant that sometimes it was hard to get him to admit when he was having a hard time, so all the boys had learned to check in with his wife any time they were concerned.

Her response wasn’t as quick (nobody replied as fast as Liam), but once the pancakes had been flipped Harry’s phone buzzed on the counter. 

_He’s having a hard time tonight. _

Harry pressed his lips together, thankful that Cheryl was one of the most honest people he’d ever met, but worried that he’d caused his friend – a husband and a father – any extra stress. 

_I know he’s got a lot going on, a lot on his mind. Maybe I should give him a break? I’m sure someone else could take Zayn on Wednesday. _

Harry suggested, knowing that Liam’s wife would be honest about what was best for her husband, what the father of her child needed. 

_No. Let him take Zayn. He wants to help, to be there for you guys, it’s important to him. It might be hard some days, but let him be the big brother, he needs that. _

_Zayn doesn’t want to upset him. _

Harry didn’t either, but ultimately it was Zayn and Liam’s call – though Cheryl and Harry both gave themselves a vote.

_He’s worried, just like the rest of you. He’s had a difficult time sleeping, just like the rest of you. _  
But he’ll be alright, just like the rest of you.   
Understood?

A smiled pulled at Harry’s lips, he could practically hear the confident maternal tone sounding through the text.

_Yes Ma’am._

He responded, adding a cheeky emoji before pocketing his cell. 

He finished dinner, making up two plates and pausing in the middle of the kitchen for a moment, deciding where to set up the meal. The main room would be most comfortable, and that way Zayn wouldn’t have to move very far – but he had seen that it could be difficult for his boyfriend to balance the food on his lap while he ate, especially on chemo days when the exhaustion was so terribly overwhelming. Harry set the table, pouring two glasses of milk – because that was what Zayn always made him drink for dinner. He buttered the pancakes, he considered pre-cutting them but thought better of it after realizing that would certainly not be appreciated, and he had no desire to ignite Zayn’s furry. Liam was right to fear a glare from those dark eyes, it was a frightening thing. 

Though, as Harry squatted down next to the couch, it was awfully hard to imagine the sweet sleepy boy being the least bit intimidating. 

“Zayn.” He called out softly, gently tracing that sharp cheekbone – the striking facial feature was far more prominent than it had ever been before and Harry had to stifle the traitorous thoughts that told him his boyfriend was becoming too thin, too fucking sick. Harry swallowed, forcing the terror back down inside himself as he moved that black hair off the pale forehead and leaned forward to place a kiss on the smooth brow. He smiled against the soft skin when he heard a content hum come from the waking man. 

“Haz.” It wasn’t an inquiry, just a quiet content sigh that warmed Harry’s insides more than anything else on the planet ever could. 

He went to move back, but paused as he felt thin fingers loosely grasp his chin and pull him back in, he raised an eyebrow but before he could speak there were soft thin lips locking on to his fuller ones. The hand that had been holding his chin, slid along his jawline and cupped his face. Harry melted into the contact, because how could he not?! There wasn’t a soul alive that was as gentle and beautiful as Zayn, and Harry couldn’t help but turn to mush around him. 

The kiss was more than a peck, but far from a proper snog – it was just long enough to fill Harry’s heart with hope and love and give him a glimpse of heaven – it was perfect, but then again, every intimate moment with Zayn always was. The boys spent a minute just breathing – just _existing_ in the same space, their foreheads pressed together as they savoured the peace. 

Eventually, Harry had to shift, his quads complaining as he got out of his crouch, sitting on his heels – knowing dinner would start to get cold soon, but having no desire to rush the serene moment. 

Zayn yawned, as he reached out and traced the collar of Harry’s shirt. 

“What, umm, what’s happening?” Zayn asked, confusion evident on his expression as he proceeded to fiddle with the folded fabric. 

Harry had learned to no longer be alarmed by the fact that his boyfriend could become so disoriented on treatment days. Zayn had never been a stranger to spacing out, he had always spent a great deal of time in his own mind - Harry always joked that it was either the artist or the introvert him, probably both. This was different, though. It wasn’t just Zayn being distracted by his own ponderings or being overwhelmed by the outside world and pulling into himself to escape – it was soul-deep exhaustion that laid itself like a fog over Zayn’s universe. 

He gave a reassuring smile, because he knew how much it unsettled the independent young man to have to ask questions like what day it was and what was going on. 

“Liam took you to chemo today. You’ve been sleeping most the afternoon. I just got in about an hour ago, I had a staff meeting after school so I was late coming home. I sent Liam home and got your meds and you made me promise to wake you up for dinner.” Harry summarised, helping Zayn gather his bearing. 

It took several seconds longer than Harry was comfortable with, but soon Zayn lost that perplexed squint. 

“I told you to wake me up, I’m pretty sure you’re the one who insisted on food.” Zayn pointed out, giving the younger man a look that very clearly said ‘Nice try’.

“Minor details.” Harry dismissed as he stood. 

Zayn gave a rueful shake of his head as he slowly leveraged himself up into a seated position. Harry watched carefully, but tried not to look as though he was doing so. 

“Dinner is on the table; I can bring it in here if you’d rather—

“No, the kitchen is fine. It’s not that far.” 

The last comment sounded as though Zayn was trying to convince himself of that fact rather than just stating it. Harry was itching to just pick the skinny boy up and carry him to the table, but he knew just how terribly that would go over – to say that Zayn would be unimpressed by such an offer would be a gross understatement. Instead, Harry simply reached down, palm up and waiting. He gripped the long fingers that slid into his hand, and helped pull the slender frame into a stand. It took a second for Zayn to find his balance (his knees always seeming rather slow to lock these days), but soon he did and they made their way across the flat. 

“Pancakes.” Zayn declared, his smile pulling a wide grin out of Harry.

“I had to make something enticing.” He commented, pulling out the chair and maintaining a hold on Zayn’s hand until the young man was seated. 

“Chocolate chips.” Zayn observed excitedly as he picked up his fork and poked at the meal. 

“Not the healthiest meal I’ve ever made.” Harry confessed, his smile still reflecting Zayn’s as he sat down across from him. 

“Definitely the best, though.” Zayn proclaimed, already two bites in. 

Harry shook his head, because of course his boyfriend would love the basic breakfast food he’d simply whipped together rather than the complex three-course meals he created on occasion. Harry used to put a lot of effort into wooing the introverted lad, it had taken him awhile to realize that Zayn seemed most impressed by Harry when he was just himself and didn’t try so hard. That had been a first for Harry, and it had changed his life.

“I’m glad you approve.” He announced, the statement entirely genuine. 

They were about half-way through their meal when Zayn suddenly looked up from the pancakes he was devouring. “Did you tell Liam?” 

Harry had learned to be ready for the random queries that seemed to come out of nowhere, it happened whenever a memory actually managed to breakthrough the wall of confusion that seemed to surround Zayn on chemo days.

“I told him. He said that you have nothing to be sorry for, that he’s fine.”

Zayn scowled. “Harry, You didn’t see—

“But of course I knew that wouldn’t be enough for you, so I texted Cheryl.” 

Zayn’s lips twitched up – likely as a response to how well his boyfriend knew him, or at least Harry hoped that was the reason. 

“What did she say?” 

Harry finished chewing before he responded. “Nothing we don’t already know. She said that he’s worried, but he’s Liam – so that’s a given.” 

Zayn nodded along at the information, taking another bite of his dinner. 

Harry poked at his food, he didn’t really want to share the other details of his conversation with Cheryl, didn’t want to say that Liam was struggling at all, because he knew that his boyfriend would blame himself for their friend’s distress. But ultimately Harry knew he had to say something, because Zayn was the one person Harry never lied to, the one person he never put on an act for – the one person he was always one-hundred percent authentic with. 

And nothing would change that, not even cancer. 

“She said he was having a hard time.” 

Zayn looked across the table at that comment, placing his glass back down as he swallowed the milk in his mouth. 

“She said that he has a hard time sleeping sometimes.” 

“We need to find someone else too take me.”

The declaration didn’t surprise Harry as he shook his head. “No, He—

“He’s a _father_ and a husband, and he’s trying to run his own damn company. I don’t want to add to his stress.” The young man decreed. 

“He’s going to worry regardless, whether he takes you to treatments or not.” 

Zayn was shaking his head before Harry had even finished speaking. “It’s different. You know it is. Seeing me at the hospital all hooked up…” Zayn shook his head “it’s different.” 

“I know.” Harry agreed, because he did and it was, but there was more to it than that. “He wants to help and we need his help—

“We can find someone else, I could cab or bus—

“He wants to do this, Zayn. He wants to be there for us – for _you_. We can’t shut him out. Cheryl said herself that he _needs_ to be the big brother.” 

The concern that crinkled Zayn’s expression was partially smoothed away by a fond twitch of his lips. “Alright.” He conceded with a sigh. “But just, make sure we don’t take advantage, okay? I, uuhh, I have a hard time keeping track of things especially during treatment weeks, so you have to make sure that we don’t – that _I_ don’t – ask too much of him.” 

Harry nodded, accepting the task and biting the inside of his cheek to keep from pointing out how ridiculous it was that Zayn thought he had it in him to take advantage of a single soul for so much as one second. It wasn’t possible. But for the sake of his boyfriend, Harry pretended that it was and promised not to permit the impossible from occurring.

Harry’s commitment to do as Zayn requested, appeared to settle his boyfriend. The thin frame visibly relaxing as any tension vanished from his shoulders and he returned to contently munching away at his dinner. 

Harry was relieved. He knew how stubborn his boyfriend could be and how hesitant he was to ever request help – how he despised being the slightest inconvenience, never understanding just how preposterous such an idea was. It was a big deal for Zayn to allow Liam to help even when he knew it wasn’t easy for the other man. Harry knew that Zayn accepting aid from their friend was a massive step for the independent lad and was not to be taken lightly. He also understood that his boyfriend was mostly allowing such a thing – not for his own sake – but for Liam’s. Liam _needed_ to help, he needed to do something to try and make things better, and Zayn was fighting his own tendencies – his very nature -- to permit his friend to help in the way that he so desperately needed to.

Harry understood that. 

Liam loved to fix things, he was good at that, he excelled in it. It was difficult for Harry to not be able to cure the man he loved and he knew Liam would be struggling just as strongly with not being able to fix the situation. 

Neither Harry or Liam could cure cancer – though God, what Harry wouldn’t give to be able to do just that. 

All they could do was help. 

All they could do was be there. 

All they could do was hold on and _hope_. 

And Zayn did his absolute best to let them. 

Together, they would get through. 

Harry just knew it. 

Besides, the alternative?

Well, that was unthinkable. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was it? Any good? I'm hoping it's not absolute rubbish but sometimes I feel like it might be :s  
Thanks for reading! I really hope at least a couple people enjoyed it! Let me know if you'd be at all interested in any more instalments for the series. - Sam


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